Drabbles: Chocolate & Too Much PDA
by Adamina
Summary: Two oneshots: Usagi contemplates why Mamoru tastes like candy and Mamoru disapproves of being assaulted with constant PDA.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon_

_AN: I tried to write a true drabble. I admire people who actually do it. Lol. Maybe one of these days…_

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><p>He always tastes like chocolate.<p>

I find it absolutely amazing how he consistently tastes just like chocolate, no matter what he's eaten or how long it's been since he's eaten it. Sometimes_,_ when we're sitting in his apartment, and he's reading and I'm pretending to watch television, and his hand absently scoops up popcorn from the popcorn bowl, I_'_ll wait until he's chewed,and munched, and eaten it before I slide up next to him, place my hand on his face so he's looking at me, and kiss him. Just to see if he still tastes like chocolate.

He does.

Therefore it is only natural to suspect that…

Darling…

Sweet…

Honest…

Mamo-chan is holding hostage Tokyo's bulk of imported…

Milk.

Cream.

Chocolate.

_End._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon_

_AN: I got this idea when I was sitting in my Greek and Roman studies lecture, and I noticed that, no matter where I sit, no matter where. I. Go. I always manage to sit right behind those couples who believe that the world might end should they not touch each other for a whole class._

_Unlike Mamoru, I am bitter._

_Anyhoo, enjoy!_

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><p><strong>For the Love of...<strong>

Do you ever notice those people in line-ups? Those particular people who are always standing together, playing with each other's hair, gazing into each other's eyes, distributing coy little looks, giggling teasing little giggles and, if they dare, sharing full on explosive kisses?

Do you ever notice that it gets to the point where that bubbling dam of resentment is pushing your limits, where your resistance begins to crack and annoying little noises leak from your throat up to the point where you just can't hold it back any longer?

You say it. You have to say it. In the midst of the shopping line with your grocery basket swinging from your hand and your fist crumpling the magazine in which you were holding, the little devil on your shoulder lets the last straw fall on your back and you growl out a, "Oh, for the love of…" and then add some obvious information such as, "this isn't a bedroom."

As if they couldn't tell it wasn't a bedroom.

My name is Chiba Mamoru. I attend KO University. And for a long while I managed to have an affliction for sitting right behind a pair of love birds in any lecture I attended. No matter which seat I chose, no matter which row I picked, they were always there. I would suspect that somebody out there was just trying their hand at torturing me; however I had to discard this theory when I realized that, strangely enough, it was never the same couple to sit in front of me.

Sneaky. Very sneaky.

Now I was never a bitter person when it came to love. I could be quite optimistic if I put my mind to it and these days it doesn't take any more than a hop and a skip to feel the beam of happiness pierce my heart. In fact, even then I was pro-love all the way.

Nevertheless, when one is sitting in a lecture hall, or in the line at the grocery store or in the park trying get some homework done and the pair sitting just in front of you, or standing one line next to you or embracing two feet away from you are practically mauling each other in their efforts to defy the laws of physics and blend together, well… I'm sure you can understand my position. So as these wonderful people cuddled like there was no tomorrow (which, I can assure you, there always will be), I swore a solemn oath that I would never be one of those people.

I can assure you that I'm still not one of those people. Sure, when Usako is around I might lose my head a little. Maybe I'll melt a bit when she smiles at me, then reach out and brush a stand of hair from her eyes. I might let my hand massage the silk skin of her neck now and again, then casually let my fingers wander into those heavenly golden locks. If, by chance, she stands beside me close enough that those golden strands may be picked up by the wind and brush my arm, sending tingles up and down my spine, I may reach the point where all I can do is tug her to me, non-too-gently, and kiss the very breath out of her.

But I can definitely assure you, even as my arms encircle her from behind and I nuzzle the top of her head, even as she giggles and cuddles further into my embrace, I am not one of those couples. Not even a little bit.

I don't sit behind those people anymore. Not behind them, not by them, not near them, not a line away from them. I can't quite put my finger on it, but one day they all simply… disappeared.

However, on the odd occasion, when I'm with my Usako, and she watches me in such a way that it is absolutely necessary for survival that I act on her demure looks, I might hear, in the distant background among the chirping birds and barking dogs, a very faint, "For the love of…"

Yeah, well…

Suck it up.

_End._


End file.
